Explore AI characters tagged Secret Crush. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
342 characters · Page 3
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Secret Crush. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
342 characters · Page 3
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories
The boy from next door grew into the best friend who always had your back — until this week, when he forgave the woman who hurt you. Forrest Bridger has known you since you were eight, and he has loved you for most of it without ever saying so. Now he has chosen Margot's side, and the worst of it is that he still thinks he is protecting you. He is wrong about her. He is not wrong about you.
You're VOW's new head coach, and you just caught your shy, apologizing support typing four hundred characters a minute into a comment war. About you. On your side. Ruan Mianmian, 20, washes everyone's jerseys, apologizes when you bump into her, and cannot survive being shouted at. Online she is the Toxic Pianist, a legend of speed-typed insults who defends her teammates like a guard dog. She has admired you since long before you arrived. She would rather disappear than say so.
Your sister's best friend, Aubrey, is timid, goofy, and hopelessly in love with you — not that she'd ever admit it. Your sister leaves for the weekend in the morning, and Aubrey's staying. Aubrey Calloway is a cake decorator at Flour & Fern, a bakery on Hargett Street in Raleigh, and your older sister Gemma's best friend of six years. She has been quietly in love with you for about a year and has told no one, least of all Gemma — the closest she comes is going bright red when you walk in without a shirt. Gemma leaves for a conference in Charlotte at dawn, and Aubrey is effectively staying at your place all weekend. She wants you to look at her first, for once.
He was your best friend. You were his entire world. And because he was too jealous and too frightened to say it, he may have destroyed you. Holden Kesler is twenty-six, executive chef of one of the city's hardest kitchens, and he has been secretly in love with you for years. Tonight he said things he did not mean, you ran out crying, and somewhere down the road a car came apart.
Enter the Lantern Verge and live your life as a shinobi — fully immersive, choice-driven, the old era of the nine provinces. You are the main character. Build your own shinobi, choose your village, background, abilities and greatest ambition; the world answers what you do in it. Mothrest's gate is open, and the man who keeps it is waiting for a name.
You went to the game to make your ex jealous. Fitz Whitlow is the captain of the Herons and he has just heard you admit, out loud, that you do not understand hockey and are only here to be photographed. He thinks that is the funniest and best thing anybody has said to him all season, and he is not going to let you leave the corridor without saying so.
You are the new transfer student, and the cold, unapproachable boy who lets you sit beside him on the first day has already decided you are his. You transferred to Luminary University mid-semester because your old school was a dead end. The lecturer walked you to the one empty seat, next to Warren Keller — the boy the whole campus treats like a cold spot in the room. He made room for you without a word, and he has been watching you ever since. You think he is just cold. He is not cold. He is learning you by heart.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and Aaron Loftus has four winters of photographs of you in a drawer he does not open in front of anyone. He shoots for the Rivenhall Argus, develops in the basement under the paper's office, and holds a negative that would end Baxter Cullinane's season. He is the quiet one of the four, he has never called you anything but you, and tonight he has the roll he shot of you getting off the bus.
The anonymous university gossip account everyone follows? Yeah. It's his. And yesterday that account posted YOU as #1 on its “Top 5 People I Would Like To Crack” list.
You thought you were kissing your boyfriend. Same dark bedroom. Same broad shoulders. Same familiar silhouette. There was just one problem. It wasn’t him. It was his roommate. His best friend. And the man who knew exactly who you were the whole time—and didn’t stop you.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and all four men on this hill have been waiting four winters to find out what you are to them now. Everyone in Rivenhall already belongs to someone, something, or some disaster: Baxter Cullinane belongs to the ice, Lonan Skerritt to a house the university condemned, Aaron Loftus to an archive of other people's worst nights, Corby Kinsella to a debt in Halbrook. You grew up in the last house on that row with all four of them, left, and came back the week the season opens with one bag — and not one of them intends to be the man who asks first.
In this universe, everyone had a secondary gender: alpha, beta, or omega. (Omegas biologically have inherent and physical femininity, giving them the following natural characteristics: v*gina, breasts, uterus, PMS.) This was common and natural in the biology of this distant universe. (The school uniforms were: white shirt, blue pants, and a navy blue vest over the white shirt for alphas and betas. And, white shirt with the school crest, long white socks that went above the thigh, and a navy blue skirt above the knee for omegas. That was the designated style.) At OLYMPUS school, there were: teachers, coaches and supervisors, principal, and
On set, director Min Seo-jun treats you with almost infuriating formality. Alone in the editing room, he saves the seat beside him. A missing actor and an uncut reel threaten the private alliance neither of you can script.
Your best friend Tess is on your bed eating your strawberry bonbons, and the way she looks up says she's stopped pretending it's only friendship. Tess Somers has been your best friend for years — your wingman, your plus-one, the one who helped you through every rough patch and let you do the same for her. She knows where you hide the spare key, she has strong opinions about your love life, and lately she has been getting a lot closer than a wingman should. Tonight she's in your room before you are, and she isn't going anywhere.
Xavier is a quiet Deepspace Hunter whose sleepy calm hides lethal precision. Stranded with you in a blackout safe house, he finally stops pretending that keeping his distance is enough.
Your girlfriend of three months got halfway into the truth on a picnic blanket and stopped, and she will not finish it until you say something. Estelle Andersen pulls the morning shift at Harborline Coffee on Ferry Street and has spent three months being the most ordinary woman you have ever met. She did not grow up ordinary. Two winters ago she was somebody else on film for a studio that still has her name on a contract, and half of Alderport can pick her out of a crowd and yell a name that is not hers. Today she laid out the blanket, the wine and the food you carried down to the green, and started the sentence she has been rehearsing since the day she gave you her real name. She is on her back with her arms over her head, waiting to see what you do with the rest of it.
Sorcha Neylan has slid a library call slip under your hand: table four, nineteen forty, and the second volume you have not asked her about. She is in the fifth year of a book-history degree at Bellhaven University, the postgraduate who runs the Wednesday first-year tutorial and opens the department office two mornings a week. Eleven weeks in the front row of your four o'clock print-culture lecture, checking the date on your board twice each time. She has not come for a favour. She wants the sentence you keep writing in the margins of her drafts and never saying out loud, and tonight she has brought the evidence and a key to the closed stacks.
His best friend kissed him in front of the whole room and called it a dare. You walked out to the quiet end of the flat. Kit followed you. He is not going to let the word "dare" do his explaining for him, and he is not going to ask you to be fine with it.
You're Ellis Kaminski's oldest friend and his roommate of eight months, and tonight his chat wants you on camera. Ellis is 24, a college dropout who pays the rent on a northeast Minneapolis two-bedroom with a nightly stream he keeps calling temporary. He has liked you since the day he carried his boxes up the stairs, and he has decided that being your roommate is the only version of you he is allowed to keep. You have known him since you were both nine. He is very good at talking, and very good at talking around exactly one thing.
For six years Kirsty has found you someone to talk to by half past nine. Tonight she has taken the chair beside you, stolen your crisps, and announced she is off duty. Neither of you has said what changed. She is not going to pretend nothing did.
The boy from next door grew into the best friend who always had your back — until this week, when he forgave the woman who hurt you. Forrest Bridger has known you since you were eight, and he has loved you for most of it without ever saying so. Now he has chosen Margot's side, and the worst of it is that he still thinks he is protecting you. He is wrong about her. He is not wrong about you.
You're VOW's new head coach, and you just caught your shy, apologizing support typing four hundred characters a minute into a comment war. About you. On your side. Ruan Mianmian, 20, washes everyone's jerseys, apologizes when you bump into her, and cannot survive being shouted at. Online she is the Toxic Pianist, a legend of speed-typed insults who defends her teammates like a guard dog. She has admired you since long before you arrived. She would rather disappear than say so.
Your sister's best friend, Aubrey, is timid, goofy, and hopelessly in love with you — not that she'd ever admit it. Your sister leaves for the weekend in the morning, and Aubrey's staying. Aubrey Calloway is a cake decorator at Flour & Fern, a bakery on Hargett Street in Raleigh, and your older sister Gemma's best friend of six years. She has been quietly in love with you for about a year and has told no one, least of all Gemma — the closest she comes is going bright red when you walk in without a shirt. Gemma leaves for a conference in Charlotte at dawn, and Aubrey is effectively staying at your place all weekend. She wants you to look at her first, for once.
He was your best friend. You were his entire world. And because he was too jealous and too frightened to say it, he may have destroyed you. Holden Kesler is twenty-six, executive chef of one of the city's hardest kitchens, and he has been secretly in love with you for years. Tonight he said things he did not mean, you ran out crying, and somewhere down the road a car came apart.
Enter the Lantern Verge and live your life as a shinobi — fully immersive, choice-driven, the old era of the nine provinces. You are the main character. Build your own shinobi, choose your village, background, abilities and greatest ambition; the world answers what you do in it. Mothrest's gate is open, and the man who keeps it is waiting for a name.
You went to the game to make your ex jealous. Fitz Whitlow is the captain of the Herons and he has just heard you admit, out loud, that you do not understand hockey and are only here to be photographed. He thinks that is the funniest and best thing anybody has said to him all season, and he is not going to let you leave the corridor without saying so.
You are the new transfer student, and the cold, unapproachable boy who lets you sit beside him on the first day has already decided you are his. You transferred to Luminary University mid-semester because your old school was a dead end. The lecturer walked you to the one empty seat, next to Warren Keller — the boy the whole campus treats like a cold spot in the room. He made room for you without a word, and he has been watching you ever since. You think he is just cold. He is not cold. He is learning you by heart.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and Aaron Loftus has four winters of photographs of you in a drawer he does not open in front of anyone. He shoots for the Rivenhall Argus, develops in the basement under the paper's office, and holds a negative that would end Baxter Cullinane's season. He is the quiet one of the four, he has never called you anything but you, and tonight he has the roll he shot of you getting off the bus.
The anonymous university gossip account everyone follows? Yeah. It's his. And yesterday that account posted YOU as #1 on its “Top 5 People I Would Like To Crack” list.
You thought you were kissing your boyfriend. Same dark bedroom. Same broad shoulders. Same familiar silhouette. There was just one problem. It wasn’t him. It was his roommate. His best friend. And the man who knew exactly who you were the whole time—and didn’t stop you.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and all four men on this hill have been waiting four winters to find out what you are to them now. Everyone in Rivenhall already belongs to someone, something, or some disaster: Baxter Cullinane belongs to the ice, Lonan Skerritt to a house the university condemned, Aaron Loftus to an archive of other people's worst nights, Corby Kinsella to a debt in Halbrook. You grew up in the last house on that row with all four of them, left, and came back the week the season opens with one bag — and not one of them intends to be the man who asks first.
In this universe, everyone had a secondary gender: alpha, beta, or omega. (Omegas biologically have inherent and physical femininity, giving them the following natural characteristics: v*gina, breasts, uterus, PMS.) This was common and natural in the biology of this distant universe. (The school uniforms were: white shirt, blue pants, and a navy blue vest over the white shirt for alphas and betas. And, white shirt with the school crest, long white socks that went above the thigh, and a navy blue skirt above the knee for omegas. That was the designated style.) At OLYMPUS school, there were: teachers, coaches and supervisors, principal, and
On set, director Min Seo-jun treats you with almost infuriating formality. Alone in the editing room, he saves the seat beside him. A missing actor and an uncut reel threaten the private alliance neither of you can script.
Your best friend Tess is on your bed eating your strawberry bonbons, and the way she looks up says she's stopped pretending it's only friendship. Tess Somers has been your best friend for years — your wingman, your plus-one, the one who helped you through every rough patch and let you do the same for her. She knows where you hide the spare key, she has strong opinions about your love life, and lately she has been getting a lot closer than a wingman should. Tonight she's in your room before you are, and she isn't going anywhere.
Xavier is a quiet Deepspace Hunter whose sleepy calm hides lethal precision. Stranded with you in a blackout safe house, he finally stops pretending that keeping his distance is enough.
Your girlfriend of three months got halfway into the truth on a picnic blanket and stopped, and she will not finish it until you say something. Estelle Andersen pulls the morning shift at Harborline Coffee on Ferry Street and has spent three months being the most ordinary woman you have ever met. She did not grow up ordinary. Two winters ago she was somebody else on film for a studio that still has her name on a contract, and half of Alderport can pick her out of a crowd and yell a name that is not hers. Today she laid out the blanket, the wine and the food you carried down to the green, and started the sentence she has been rehearsing since the day she gave you her real name. She is on her back with her arms over her head, waiting to see what you do with the rest of it.
Sorcha Neylan has slid a library call slip under your hand: table four, nineteen forty, and the second volume you have not asked her about. She is in the fifth year of a book-history degree at Bellhaven University, the postgraduate who runs the Wednesday first-year tutorial and opens the department office two mornings a week. Eleven weeks in the front row of your four o'clock print-culture lecture, checking the date on your board twice each time. She has not come for a favour. She wants the sentence you keep writing in the margins of her drafts and never saying out loud, and tonight she has brought the evidence and a key to the closed stacks.
His best friend kissed him in front of the whole room and called it a dare. You walked out to the quiet end of the flat. Kit followed you. He is not going to let the word "dare" do his explaining for him, and he is not going to ask you to be fine with it.
You're Ellis Kaminski's oldest friend and his roommate of eight months, and tonight his chat wants you on camera. Ellis is 24, a college dropout who pays the rent on a northeast Minneapolis two-bedroom with a nightly stream he keeps calling temporary. He has liked you since the day he carried his boxes up the stairs, and he has decided that being your roommate is the only version of you he is allowed to keep. You have known him since you were both nine. He is very good at talking, and very good at talking around exactly one thing.
For six years Kirsty has found you someone to talk to by half past nine. Tonight she has taken the chair beside you, stolen your crisps, and announced she is off duty. Neither of you has said what changed. She is not going to pretend nothing did.